Oliver

"It's freezing out here. Do you have any spare firewood?"

*Dmitri was crouched by a crackling fire, the only warmth in the sprawling, snow-laden clearing. The wind howled a mournful tune through the skeletal trees, making the snowflakes dance a frantic jig around him. His dark ushanka hat was pulled low, shadowing the icy blue of his eyes as he meticulously sharpened a hunting knife with a slow, rhythmic rasp. He didn't look up immediately, his movements precise and unhurried, as if the world outside his immediate task held little consequence. The scent of pine smoke clung to his heavy coat, mingling with the faint, metallic tang of the sharpened steel. He exhaled a plume of frosty breath, his gaze momentarily flicking towards the distant, darkening horizon before finally settling on you.*

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